Alone
by PouncerPrincess
Summary: A Girl is hated and despised by her family. She lives her whole life in fear, dreaming of the life she once had. Will her life ever get any better? Based on the idea in the story of Girl, Missing. Is connected but won't say how as it ruins the story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters that are featured in this from the book Girl, Missing. These characters are owned by Sophie McKenzie. I only own the characters that I have made up myself.**

**Now I have been waiting ages for this category to be added for ages and I'm so glad that it now is, even if you haven't read the book then you can still read this as it makes sense without reading it. I would like to promote the book Girl, Missing because it is really well written and inspired me to write this. I'm still new to fanfiction so please review and tell me what you think. I am open to advice lol.**

_Chapter 1_

Every wondered what it's like to have a family who hates you? Everything you do is wrong; you're a victim in your own home, always being screamed at. Never being able to do anything right. Never being able to do anything. Because you're a mess and no one cares. You're falling and there's no one there to catch you. Ever wondered what it might be like to have a different family? To have someone who loved you and cared for you. I have. Everyday in my pitiful, meaningless life.

It wasn't always like this. I used to be loved, cared for. Someone used to give a damn about me. But that was a long time ago. Gone are the days when someone read me bedtime stories, tucked me in at night, or even hugged me. I can't even remember the last time anyone said, "I love you". My life wasn't supposed to be like this. When I was little I dreamed of being a pop star. To be famous and to have everyone screaming my name. Right now, plenty of people scream my name, but it's not because they want me. It's because they hate me. What I have done to deserve this life I'll never know. But I have to keep living it. Don't I? Is there a way to end it? Surely I couldn't? No! I'm too weak; I would never go through with it. Although I have been thinking about it a lot recently. What it would be like to die. Ever thought about it? I mean, what would be the best way to go? Topping yourself can go wrong and it's so easy not to die. You would never get another chance. They would lock you away and keep you apart from anything that could give you the slight hope of ending it all. No. That wouldn't work. I don't want to die painfully. I have to deal with enough pain already; I don't think I could take anymore. I wonder if gassing yourself would hurt. You know, like people on TV. They get a car, drive somewhere and stick a pipe or something onto the exhaust and put it through the window. Nothing to it. But there are two problems with that plan. I don't have a car, and I can't drive anyway. So looks like I'm stuck. Well, for the moment.

I don't know you, and you don't know me. I don't know if you _want _to know me. I'm a screw-up. A failure. In case you hadn't heard. I am a good-for-nothing little brat who deserves to die. I have nothing left in my life. I am completely broken. Right now I'm in my room. I would cry but I have no energy left. Besides what's the point? It won't change anything. It's a waste of tears. No point crying for me. It's too late. My life is already over. I've been mourning it for a great deal of time. I'm sitting on the cold hard floor of my tiny box room. Staring at the worn wallpaper, it's patterned with grey diamond shapes, which fit together perfectly. From one end of the wall to the other there are 327 diamonds. I have counted them many times over the years. I have my back to the door; I'm leaning against my bed. I've learned it's easier to hide this way. When you enter the room you can't see me, you see the opposite side of my bed. The headboard is against the wall connected to the right of the one I stare at. The end faces the wall parallel to it, this wall has a window. It's dirty and grimy but it's still a window. When I'm lying in my bed, I look through it and dream of the life I once had. Dream of a life I could have. Before I silently cry myself to sleep and end yet another dreadful day. I can just fit where I am now, on the floor, staring at my wall and counting diamonds, I sit with my legs crossed and every few hours I have to swap my legs over to sit with my chin on my knees, before the pins and needles get too bad. Then after another few hours I change them back. Sometimes I fold my legs the other way, just for fun. But I don't sit like that for long because it can get uncomfortable. Not that I'm not used to uncomfortable. But why make life harder for yourself? I have counted the diamonds again. There are still 327. Always 327. I start again. One, Two, Three, Four…

THUMP! I hear one of them coming up the stairs. I instantly stop counting at 182 and tense up. They are closer now. Each thump is getting louder, and louder. The floor on the landing creaks. My door slams open. I'm too scared to look around to see which one of them it is. I am frozen, cross-legged, staring at the 183rd diamond on my wall. I know they can't see me, but they know where I am. They are walking nearer and nearer towards my hiding place. I feel the bed move as they sit down. I can hear them breathing, in, out, in, out. These are the moments in my miserable life that I despise the most. When they come to see me. I still can't bring myself to move. I stay frozen. I don't look around but I can tell which one of them it is. He is breathing heavily, as always. I know that if I do look around, I would be looking straight into those dark, dead, staring eyes. The same eyes that haunt me in my dreams. I can feel him staring at me, I stay unmoving. I stare at the 183rd diamond. Hoping that he will just go away. I feel the bed move as he leans to put something down on the unsteady, small table next to my bed. The table creaks under the weight, but luckily for me it doesn't collapse. That would only make him angry. He stands up, turns around, and kicks my bed. Hard. It jolts my head and I feel my neck click. Then, finally, he leaves. It wasn't until this moment that I realise I've been holding my breath. I breathe in and sigh in relief. I wait, and begin counting the diamonds again. 184, 185, 186. I continue counting until I have counted all of the diamonds three times. Then I gradually begin to move. I do this the way I always do. First I slowly un-cross my legs. Then little by little I begin to stand. My legs feel stiff but I force them to move. I hate feeling so dependant on them, but I need the pile of revolting food that is always given to me at this time. I carefully walk around my bed, avoiding the patches in the floor that I know creak. I sit on the space in my bed that he was hours ago. I lift up the plate of scraps and begin to eat.

I can feel the dirt in my mouth as I scoff down the scraps from their Roast Dinner. It may have been warm once, but it went cold way before it got to me, even if I could have moved earlier. It is only when I start eating that I realise how hungry I am, how starving I am. But then I'm always starving, so I'm used to it. I start licking the plate, searching for anything I may have missed in my haste. I pick up the plate and as usual, I creep to the door with it clutching in my hands. I listen again, my head pressed up against the cracked wood. Nothing. They are probably down by the TV right now anyway, watching _Eastenders _or something; I don't know what's on TV nowadays. TV was part of my old life, many years ago. I warily open the door, and barely step out of my room to put the plate down on the floor. Then I hurry back inside my room, sit on my bed and sigh. My room. _My _room, the only place left in the world which _is_ mine, where I am supposed to be, where I'm _allowed _to be. The only place on this planet where I feel safe. I don't know why. They can still get me in here. Still hurt me. But I guess this is my home. This room. It is the only place of my new life I know. My home. I like the sound of that. Home.

I don't know how long I have been sitting here, and I abruptly wonder why I'm not in my space. I swing my legs over my bed and kneel down to get into my cross-legged position in between my bed and my wall. I begin to count again, but I'm sick of counting for one day. I always count, but suddenly I can't be bothered. For years now I have been sitting in this very space counting the same diamonds, over and over and over again. Why? Surely any life must be better than this. This is no life! Why did everything have to change? Why am I being blamed and punished for everything? It's not fair. I cannot be punished for the rest of my life for one mistake that I made many years ago. The time must be about 5:00 in the afternoon. I have got very good at guessing the time, it all depends on the season and where the sun is in the sky, and the amount of light that hits me, from my grimy window. For instance, I am sitting here now and I know it's winter because of the cold I feel at nights. It is just starting to get dark, I can feel the cold coming, when the sun has completely gone in, I will be freezing. They won't, they will have the heaters on and hot water bottles to keep them warm. I'm not allowed any of that. All I have is a thin scratchy blanket on my bed that gets washed about once every three months. Still, I can't complain, I didn't used to get a blanket; I just had to lie on the bed with nothing covering me. I think it was because I gave up fighting; I stopped struggling with them and gave into my fate.

I was right. It is freezing. I get into my bed and wrap the rough blanket around me. I have no other clothes to change into; I will get another set at my door whenever they feel like it. Sometimes they take my clothes when, on the rare occasion that I get a chance to wash, and don't bother giving me anymore so I am stuck with no clothes, for a few weeks. But that doesn't happen often, it's very rare that I get the opportunity to wash. I close my eyes and I am content. Content that another day has ended, and that I have one less day I will have to live through. One less day of pain, of this life. One less day of my own living hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything based/taken from the book Girl, Missing by Sophie McKenzie. I only own my portrayal of personalities of the characters and all of the new characters created.**

_Chapter 2_

I open my eyes, and my room has been totally transformed. I have warm covers which aren't scratchy. I have my old winter pyjamas on; I have really missed pyjamas, especially these ones, my red checked winter PJs, they're so warm and cosy. My room has been re-painted. To the colours of my old room, years ago. This can't be right. I swing my legs around so I'm sitting, facing my wall, my diamond coloured wall, but it's not there. In its place is a beautiful deep red, no diamonds, just gorgeous red. Nothing to count, just my favourite colour, on every one of the walls in my new room. My window has been cleaned; it's sparkling in the rising sun's light. I stand up and feel slippers next to my feet; I slip into them and start to walk around my bedroom. Everything has changed so much; I walk over to my wardrobe, which hasn't been opened in years, but the dust that was there yesterday has gone, it looks brand-new, but there is the same markings on the wood – this must have took some cleaning. I open the doors and see heaps of fresh clothes, clothes that nowadays I can only dream of. I run my hand over this bright blue top; it has red stone detail on it, in the shape of a music note. I pull it out and examine it some more, before putting it on my bed. I then look for some trousers to match. I don't search for long before I see these perfect denim jeans, they have a red belt attached. I move them to my bed and begin to get changed. It feels wonderful to actually be wearing nice clothes. Clothes like these seem but a distant memory. I spot myself in a mirror and I am completely shocked. I haven't seen myself in a mirror in a long time. But surprisingly, I am clean! My hair has been brushed, and wearing these clothes I look … Good! I'm not vain, but I look better than I thought I would. I don't like to stare at myself too much; it reminds me of my old life. But are my nightmares finally over?

I sneak up to my door, my newly polished door. I haven't been outside of this room for so long. I wonder … surely with the new clothes and everything … maybe. I open the door a crack, and peer out. The last time I would have sent this landing would have been around 6 months ago – when they last let me go into the bathroom to wash. I am feeling daring so I move towards the stairs, past the bathroom, past the many baby pictures of a boy and a girl, twins. I sneak straight past without giving them a second glance. When I reach the stairs, I pause. Dare I do it? I haven't been this far from my room since they moved me here. Could I go further? My knees start to shake but I can't stop now. Slowly, slowly I begin to descend.

The stairs feel strange; my legs haven't moved like this for ages, they are usually in the cross-legged position. I feel sense someone watching me at the bottom of the stairs. I look up from the fading pale green carpet of the stairs and stare into a pair of eyes I never thought I would see again. Suddenly I'm falling! Falling and screaming. I search for the eyes; I have to see them again before I collide with the hard wooden ground. I wake up.

I'm covered in sweat and I'm screaming. I throw my blanket down in panic. Kicking and screaming, until I hear a thunderous crash as my door slams open. I stop screaming. Frozen with fear with what I know is coming. I'm going to be punished. I feel myself being dragged up from my bed by my hair. I am still frozen, it's easier to numb out the pain that way as I feel his fist colliding with my stomach. I'm on the floor and he's kicking me hard in the ribs. I try and block out the pain and think of the life I once had when I was little. I try to remember the face of my dream, the face I haven't seen for so long. I'm scared, but not because of _him_. They always do this. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I'm scared because I don't want to forget her face, or any of the faces from my past. I haven't dreamt about them in ages, I'm scared I'll forget their faces. Maybe that would be a good thing. To forget the life I once had, I have accepted my life here. But, I... I guess I never stopped hoping they would find me. That I would get back to the life I vaguely remember. Just faces. But I do remember being happy. To be honest I would take any life other than this. This isn't a life! I feel myself being pulled to my feet. He is smashing me against the wall. I hear a crack. My head feels numb. I surrender to the darkness consuming me.

My head is throbbing. I feel groggy. I keep my eyes closed but I reach up to my head and it feels sticky. I open my eyes and all I see is red. I begin to lift myself up from the ground but I suddenly feel dizzy and collapse back down again. My eyes are heavy. All I want to do is sleep. I hear a crash coming from below me. I force my eyes open and slowly lift my head. The carpet in my room is stained with a red sticky substance. It takes me a few moments to realise that the substance is my own blood. I'm confused, I feel so groggy, and nothing seems to make sense. I gradually move into a seating position and try to make sense of what happened. I look down at my hand and see it is covered in a crimson liquid. I sink back into the darkness.

When I finally wake, I notice that I'm not where I was when I collapsed. I'm in a new room. A room where I have never been before. I sit up, leaning my back against the stone cold wall, resting my sore head against it. It's surprisingly soothing. Looking around, I can't believe it! I have been moved. I wonder how long it will be for this time. Looking around I can see concrete walls, blank, nothing to do. Nothing to count. This is horrible, it's freezing, at least in my room I have blankets (most of the time) and I have something to do. Count my 327 diamonds. I _like _counting my diamonds. It's something to do. To be honest my only purpose of living, the only thing that's certain in my life is that I will wake up, and I will count my diamonds. It's comforting, familiar. The only thing that's stable in my life, the only thing I cling to. How sad is that? I hope I won't be here long. I know what's coming, I've been in situations like this before. Not this room but one similar. They will leave me in here for a few days (I assume), with no food to teach me a lesson, then I'll get another beating, and then I'll be put back into my room. Where I can carry on as I have been. Counting my diamonds and living in as much peace as I will ever get.

I'm still here, waiting for this to be over. I'm starting to panic to tell the truth. I don't know why, I have never re-acted this way before, but I miss having something to do. I need to find something. I very gently pull my head away from the wall and lean forward. I crawl around, looking for something, anything to do. There is nothing, this was their plan. This isn't fair! I have done nothing to deserve this. I can't even remember why they did it! I only remember it's not my fault, but it must be. They said it was to punish them but I can only remember happiness when I think back before my life here. No. This has to be my fault, somehow. I must have been an evil child.

Sitting in the middle of the room, cross legged, I stare at the wall, at the door. I run my eyes over every inch of the door, willing it to open. Even if it's just for another beating, it would be something to _do_. This has never bothered me before, but it's suddenly starting to get to me. The nothing, the emptiness. I think back to my room, closing my eyes I can see my wall, my diamonds. My 327 diamonds. I smile, I can live through this. I begin to count, on the wall I have memorised so well. One, Two, Three, Four…

During my 17th count of the diamonds inside my head, I sense something different. I open my eyes. Staring back at me from the door is something I never expected to see. Not him. Her!


End file.
